Author's Notes: A couple of things to clarify: this story is based on the assumption that Meg does not have any knowledge of ever having met or heard of Erik from her mother but only of the legend of the phantom like in the novel. Also Erik's appearance is more akin to Gerard Butler's portrayal in the movie. Other than that enjoy and please leave a review.
Chapter 3: The Meeting
A late snowstorm unleashed all of its furry on the unsuspecting inhabitants of Paris and left the landscape completely blanketed in white. Silence reigned as people nestled against warm fires; the only other sound outside was a lone, barking dog. The small stream beside the cottage froze solid overnight and the hired boy bundled in a thick woolen coat had left work early after having returned the geese from pasture.
Meg Giry, sitting by the fireplace with her mother, was trying her best to occupy herself with her needlework but had soon irreparably tangled up her thread again. She had always thought after starting her new life at the cottage that she was never meant for such domestic tasks as sewing or embroidery. All her life, she had engaged herself in perfecting the art of dancing and would be considered by many to be extremely unladylike. In addition, Meg was also perfectly frank, having never learned falsity or guile as well as rather rash and willful. Perhaps that was why the secret hidden in the barn weighed so heavily on her mind and conscience. She finally set aside the needle and bit of cloth with a deep sigh.
Mme. Giry raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips, "Meg, I declare that I have never seen you so fidgety before. Is something the matter?"
Meg gave her mother a nervous smile before answering, "Nothing at all." She looked at Mme Giry's unconvinced face, "Really, Maman. I suppose it is just this change in the weather outside that has been affecting my mood."
Mme. Giry nodded and looked out the window where flakes of snow continued to fall, "Yes, it'll be very cold before this all melts. How unusual that it should snow so heavily now. You know, my dear, I've never been a superstitious woman but I tend to think this might be a bad omen of some sort." She added, "Don't forget to dress warmly when you decide to go out."
"Yes, Maman," Meg replied with a mind clearly on something else, "However, I think reading something from the library will be good for me." She rose from the couch and hurried away before her mother could respond.
In her room, Meg rummaged through her wardrobe and uncovered an extra blanket before placing it in a basket along with some morsels smuggled from the kitchen. Balancing her load, she carefully tip-toed down the stairs.
'It'll be cold today,' echoed in her head. A day had passed since the marketplace tryst and Pierre had informed her yesterday after having been sent to check on the man that he had spent the entire night and day either asleep or unconscious. Pity for the wounded, mysterious creature in the barn sent her out alone and without anyone's knowledge. Meg tried to reason away a gnawing feeling of remorse that once more she was lying to her mother as she softly stole out the back gate. A chilling, winter wind immediately begun to tear at the folds of her shawl and a shower of fast falling flakes temporarily obscured all vision. 'Yes,' Meg thought, plowing her way through the snow, 'As soon as his wounds heal which will not be too long, I will send him on his way. Maman will never have to know.'
Thin sheets of ice had formed on the latch and Meg struggled to open the barn door. Success once achieved and covered in cold melting snow, she slipped into the refreshing warmth and was met with the soothing clucks of nestled geese. A blast of wind slammed the door closed with an ominous clang; the dimness of the barn was a sharp contrast. She had to quiet the frantic pounding of her heart by reminding herself that it was foolish to be so afraid before proceeding up the loft.
He lay in the same position as before. Meg again had to watch for the rise and fall of his chest to ascertain the man was alive. After laying the offered supplies in one corner, she fell from curiosity to studying the creature she had saved. The horribly scarred side of his face was half-hidden in the straw and from Meg's point-of-view, had the right side of his features matched his left, he might have been a remarkably handsome man. Fortune for whatever reason had not been so kind to him however. From his long and fine hands, he did not seem to be a common laborer. Meg fancied such fingers would be wonderfully suited for a musical instrument of some sort. 'But then again, thieves and depraved conmen could very well have such hands as well,' thought Meg. 'And the way he was found…'
So engrossed was she in attempting to discern his character that Meg did not notice the man's suddenly quickened breathe. Needless to say, the poor girl was completely off guard when she found her wrist seized in an iron grasp and jerked forward to confront a pair of very green, very intimidating eyes.
"Oh!" Meg could only cry foolishly. She was both shocked and truly frightened now.
"Why?" demanded the man, his voice an impressive boom even in his obvious pain. "Why did you save me? Why did you not leave me to die?"
Meg quavered and felt it of little use to attempt a struggle for he was remarkably strong even while wounded. Her wrist was starting to ache and yet he showed no signs of releasing her. There was a long pause as she opened and closed her mouth, struggling to find the appropriate words. "I-I-I couldn't. You were injured and I felt myself obligated to help you." Meg replied. She did not shrink from his keen gaze though the cruel, menacing expression found there was terrible to behold. He had half-risen when he spoke and Meg was now forced to bear the full ugliness of his deformity.
He must have seen where she was looking along with the horror reflected in her own blue eyes. "You gaze intently at this repulsive, monstrous face of mine which ostracizes me forever from society." He sneered, "You think me exceedingly ugly, yes?" The creature tossed back his head and gave a bitter chuckle. A hollow, mirthless laugh that sent icy shivers down Meg's spine.
"I do, sir," said Meg simply.
"You fear and loathe me then?" pressed the man further, peering curiously at the rare creature before him who was dangerously candid; who he had expected to cry, plead or faint as was the established customs for all damsels in distresses but who would not such.
"No, I do not know you well enough to hate you. But I am indeed afraid." Meg, who in actuality was not feeling nearly as courageous as her words and steady voice would seem to suggest, was seriously contemplating the effectiveness of kicking or hurling herself at the man and thereby securing a chance for her escape.
"Why?" he asked mockingly, leaning in even closer.
"Because you are hurting my wrist, sir and will not release me."
"Ah but fear is only a precursor to hatred" he said almost eagerly, still holding fast to her wrist and ignoring her request. "If you only knew the crimes I have committed, you would certainly abhor me."
"So you admit that you did indeed steal from that man yesterday," she questioned.
He was amazed by her boldness and observed her warily. "Worse…I have done far worse…" came the confession spoken in a muffled, subdued tone. He looked away with a pained grimace and did not see Meg's eyes widen in horror.
These words served only to affirm her suspicions that she had saved none other than a heinous criminal and added to her horror and guilt. I should not have been so trusting. Yet she could not easily forget the grief and self-hatred evident in his countenance as he had asked if she hated him. A person's conscience once destroyed cannot be so easily if at all recovered again. Clearly, this man whoever he was and whatever he had done lay broken, tormented with suicidal thoughts. Surely his appearance could not have added to his situation in life either.
"Pitiful creature…" she whispered, uncertain of what had induced her to blurt out such words. After all, here she was perhaps completely at his mercy. The only witnesses were the geese below them and a raging storm outside to completely muffle her screams. No one to call for help... And still, she pitied him against all reason and sense. This pathetic, unpredictable, and most likely mad being before her... Surely I must be going insane as well.
Whatever the lapse in sense, the effect of her words on the man was immediate however. He jerked his head to regard her with a mixture of pained surprise, tragedy, and something inexplicable to Meg. "How…" he begun and faltered, "She too had once said that to me…" Meg's face plainly expressed her confusion and if the man was secretly searching for an answer, he found none there and was disappointed. With a weary sigh, he closed his abruptly misty eyes.
"Go," spoken in a low voice, "Go at once. Call for the police and they will find me without trouble. I offer resistance no longer." He released his hold on her.
Meg did not need to be told twice and half stumbling, half descending down the ladder and out of the barn, she managed to somehow drag her trembling body back to the cottage…
…and almost collide directly with her mother.
"Good heavens! Meg, you're soaked through and through. What has happened, child?" Madame Giry cried after a sharp glance at her daughter's pathetic, shivering figure.
Now Meg half wanted to invent an excuse for her current condition. But upon seeing the worry on her mother's lined face and after the recent turn of events, she was left speechless and thoroughly drained. For such reasons, Meg was very much relieved to fling cold arms round the confused matron and half cry, half pour out her troubles.
"I've got something urgent to tell you, Maman."
Thanks for Reading: This chapter was challenging for me to write but also very enjoyable. (Sorry, I will get back to RC in the next chapter.) It took several revisions but I hope that neither Erik nor Meg is out of character. To say that they got off on the wrong foot would be an understatement…but hopefully things will be better. ;) Until next time then!
